


Unraveling

by surena_13



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 6x13, Episode Tag, F/M, Spoilers, the same boat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 23:51:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6260854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surena_13/pseuds/surena_13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carol wakes up after a nightmare again, but this time she's not alone. Possible spoilers for episode 6 x 13 The Same Boat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unraveling

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters  
> A/N: Thanks to the lovely Dee for being my beta for this piece.  
> A/N 2: First time in quite a while that I've written anything decent. Comments are welcome :)

She wakes up gasping, sucking in air as if she hasn’t been able breathe for minutes. She might as well have been. It had felt so real, the dream, the nightmare. It’s different every night, but the result is the same, ghosts weighing heavily on her shoulder, stealing her sleep, very slowly pushing her to her breaking point. She’s fraying at the edges, burned away so many times that she is losing herself. By now it’s the question of what will break her first, the complete lack of sleep or her guilt.

 

The screams still echo in Carol’s head as she rubs her hands over her face. Everything aches, the bruises on her back where Donnie’s boot hit her so hard. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to lie on the floor, a threatening shadow looming over her, pain caused by pure hatred coursing through her body. It has been so long, but not long enough, never long enough. She just has to close her eyes and she’s back in her home, fists hitting her everywhere, hoping that Sophia doesn’t wake up, praying that Ed never lays a finger on her.

 

“You gotta breathe,” a soft voice mutters beside her and the briefest moments she tenses up, her dreams, her thoughts so real that she had forgotten she wasn’t alone, that he was right there beside her, the way he should have been for months, years if they hadn’t been so stubborn, too occupied in dealing with their own problems to realize that they’d need each other to heal, to be stronger.

 

Carol follows his advice, taking slow deep breaths until her heart stops beating so fast and loud like it was going to beat its way out of her chest. Daryl’s hand, warm and comforting through the fabric of her tank top on the small of her back, may be helping as well. His touch has always calmed her down, even when he didn’t realize it. She wishes she has the words to express her gratitude. She wishes she has any words to say to him at all, but they all seem to get stuck in her throat as if they’re choking her.

 

His hand moves over her back, mindful of her bruises. The expression on his face had been dark when he spotted them, but he hadn’t said a word.  He had just traced the dark discolorations, pressing a soft kiss to her bare shoulder. They haven’t exchanged a lot of words in general after they left the corpses of the Saviors behind, beyond what was necessary. Even Daryl moving into her room was a wordless agreement. It just made so much sense, that nobody questioned it. It does seem natural having him next to her, his body solid and familiar, her anchor in this haunting reality.

 

It’s easier to be with him like this, alone in her room, she supposes it’s their room now, when she’s not looking at him. It’s when she looks in his eyes it’s when she feels she might tell him everything, even though she isn’t ready. Someday soon, she’ll tell him when the feeling that her hands are always covered in blood stops, when her demons give her back control of her words so she can stop lying. Or when she gets tired to her bones of pretending and staying away from Daryl. It already happened today, once.

 

There’s a reason she’s been avoiding him for so long. She can’t lie to him, not really. He’s the only one who can see through all her bullshit. She just couldn’t keep up her facade when he bent down to look her properly in the eyes, giving her no chance to walk away, the way he had zeroed in on her, his expression one of worry. When he touched her chin, so gentle, so careful as if he were afraid that she would disappear on him again, it was impossible to tell him she was alright when she felt like collapsing, crumbling down into little pieces until there was nothing left.

 

She seems to be unraveling and it’s so damn tiring. It would be so easy to just give up, wait for the next best disaster to take her, but every time there is something, someone to fight for, someone who deserves to live; Judith, Beth, Sam, Maggie. Daryl. Being dead would be so easy, it’s the dying that gets her every time. The price of giving up is always too high. If Maggie hadn’t been there, Carol isn’t sure if she would have made the effort to escape. And she knows that this is what scares Daryl, is why he immediately focused on her, is part of the reason he now sleeps in her bed, so she doesn’t slip away.

 

She wouldn’t, not now, even if it would be like a release. No more people she would lose, no more killing people to protect her own, no more nightmares. She’d finally get some rest, free from small hands holding onto her so tightly that her skin bruises and breaks, from cold, accusing eyes, from the all too familiar voices that beg her, scream at her, even forgive her. But no, she can’t do that to Daryl, she knows him well enough to know that it would destroy him, more than the weight of the people she has killed is destroying her.

 

Taking a last deep breath, Carol lies back down, sliding closer to him until she can rest her head on his chest, his heartbeat soft in her ear and like they’ve been doing this for years, Daryl wraps an arm around her, holding her close. This is not how she imagined sleeping next to him would be like, but she wouldn’t change it for anything. He simply understands her and gives her time to gather her thoughts, gather her courage to tell him whatever she wants to tell him. She can be unapologetically herself around. She can tell him she is not okay, she is anything but okay and it doesn’t make her feel weak. It makes her feel like a tiny bit of weight has been lifted off her shoulders.

 

“Don’t disappear on me.” His words are so softly spoken, she isn’t entirely sure she has heard him properly, but when he continues talking, she just hold her breath and listens, like he would if she wanted to talk. “Don’t talk if you don’t wanna, just don’t disappear on me again.”

 

Tears sting her eyes again. She had hoped she was done crying for today, but the way his voice cracks ever so slightly, his hold on her tightens, it breaks something in her again. She thought she had been protecting him from herself when she had distanced herself from him, but she hadn’t even considered that she might be hurting him as much as not being near him had hurt her.

 

“I won’t,” Carol promises. She’s tired of pretending and lying and hiding. She’s tired of killing. She’s just tired. She would like to stay here in bed, in his arms and sleep until the nightmares go away. It’s impossible, she knows that, because there is always going to be some next crisis, some next disaster to be solved, but she can slowly let herself start to feel things that she suppressed for so long. She can when she’s with him. It will take time, but she knows Daryl will wait. “I won’t disappear again.”

 

“Hmm.” His hum is a reassuring one and so is the way he gently caresses her arm and back. She still feels like she’s falling apart, but now she knows that he will be there to pick up the pieces. Daryl will be there when she wants to open herself up, show him her journal and the rosary, tell him about everything she has done. And she knows that he won’t abandon her once she has confessed it all. Once the bruises fade, maybe she can finally start healing.

 


End file.
